Chibinapped
by Pointless But Original
Summary: When a mysterious man kidnaps Ryoma, it's up to Nanjiroh and the regulars to find out who did it and why // Forum Anniversary Fic // Multichapter
1. Chapter 1

Title : Chibi-napped

Mod you're writing for : Chibisuke

Writers : Apple Snapple, Frog-kun, finding, Eternal. Angel _(Kura note: Sorry Angieko your name got cut off by FFnet doc manager. D:)_

Betas: , SakuraIroKaze

Genre(s) : Suspense

Pairing(s) : N/A

School(s) : Seigaku

Wordlength : Multi-chapter

Summary : When a mysterious man kidnaps Ryoma, it's up to Nanjiroh and the regulars to find out who did it and why.

Author's note : N/A

* * *

It was dusk and Echizen Ryoma was walking home alone. Tennis practice had ended rather late that day and Ryoma felt tired. When he got home, he would flop on his bed and do nothing. Well, sleep, maybe.

Lifting a small, pale hand to his face, Ryoma threw his head back and yawned. He then slipped his hand back to the strap of his slightly lopsided tennis bag. As the familiar material rubbed against his skin, he thought about his tennis and what he would do the next day. There was still much he wanted to accomplish.

Perhaps it was because he was tired that Ryoma didn't notice a man approach him. It was getting dark and so Ryoma couldn't make out the stranger's face but the shape and height was most definitely that of a male.

The man spoke as Ryoma walked past. It was a familiar voice.

"Let's play a little game..."

Ryoma perked up upon hearing 'game'. It was a reflexive action built up over the years of tennis -- 'game' always was a synonym for 'challenge', at least in Ryoma's book, and the Prince of Tennis never did turn down a challenge.

"Che." He smirked almost triumphantly, swinging his racket over one shoulder. "Be prepared to lose." Fatigue from practice had long since been forgotten at the presumed tennis match.

The man only smiled in reply, beckoning with his finger for Ryoma to follow him.

And like the true blue tennis-crazy twelve-year-old he was, he strolled along behind and could not help but inwardly think about how comfortable that limo with the black tinted windows must be, and how much he'd kill to be immersed in the air-conditioning and mini fridges right about now.

The limo pulled over before them, now shadows in the last lights. A figure emerged. His arms were wide open, as if in an over-the-top welcoming gesture.

The buzzing warning lights that should have gone off in Ryoma's head failed to go off. Tennis. Some idiot wants to challenge me to tennis.

Before he could react -- which only happened to Ryoma when he was thinking too much about tennis -- he was whirled away by those welcoming arms and pulled into the limousine, and they were speeding along nameless high roads next thing he knew.

The man took another glance at the boy sitting beside him, sleeping peacefully with a smirk on his face, arms tied behind his back with a long piece of rope. He had captured the boy all too easily; he was surprised at how willingly the boy had come to his side. It made his life a whole lot easier, but he still could not put it past him how easily the boy had walked right into his trap.

The boy had gotten close enough for the man to pull him into the limousine, and before the boy could protest the handkerchief was already there, masking his face until he started feeling drowsy, and eventually fell into a deep slumber. Now he had the boy in his hands, an effective weapon that would help him further his plans.

He looked at the boy yet again, and vowed that he would erase the smirk off his face. The smirk, the smile, the fulfillment didn't belong there, definitely not on his face. He was the son of Nanjiroh, he had no right to comfort, to happiness. As they arrived at their destination, the boy slowly came to, opening his eyes slowly and blinking, clearly not understanding why he was here. Confusion was etched on his face as he realized that he was unable to move his arms.

The boy turned and looked at him. "What's happening?"

However, the man didn't say a word as he turned to face the window. He remained silent as he took out a cigarette box from the pocket of his shirt and squeezed out a cigarette from it, crushing the box slightly. He stuffed the box back inside the pocket it came from and took out a lighter instead. After lighting his cigarette, he stowed away the lighter and took a puff. Sighing, the man finally turned his back from Ryoma and looked at him straight in the eyes. The sharpness and reflection of the man's eyes were clear and bright, and the boy could see his own reflection.

"You'll see for yourself," the man said with a sly smile. "You'll see."

The limousine came to a sudden stop, nearly throwing Echizen off of his seat since he had nothing to hold on to with his hands bound. The locks clicked open, and the man gripped Ryoma by the end of his shirt, wrinkling it all over. The boy could do nothing but struggle as the car's door opened, and the man dragged Ryoma out, with two of his men behind him.

Ryoma lifted his eyes so that they shifted towards the direction the man was taking him. He saw a strange, eerie building that seemed deserted, like it had been abandoned for a while now, and no one bothered to fix it up or lease it out to customers for use. The windows were boarded up with stiff, moldy colored pieces of wood, and there was glass scattered all over the place.

Why? Ryoma wondered. Why was this happening to him? What was the reason for kidnapping him, or whatever was going on? His parents weren't rich. He had no idea what to do in a situation like this.

And for the first time, a particularly unsettling sensation came upon him. He looked down at the ground, feeling like he was going to be sick. The wind, whipping around his head, felt chillingly cold.

He was scared.


	2. Chapter 2

When Echizen Nanjiroh realized that his son was missing, he didn't care at first.

It was a normal day for him: ringing the bell, reading his lewd magazines, pestering Karupin. Ryoma had probably gone off playing a tennis match somewhere. He was usually away in the evenings if he wasn't playing with his father. So Nanjiroh didn't worry even as the dusk became night, which became morning again.

Ryoma still wasn't back.

In the morning, Nanako asked for him: "Where is he? He's been gone all night. School's going to start soon."

Nanjiroh put down his magazine and stared out the window. The path leading to the temple gate was completely and utterly empty. Nanjiroh bit his lip and for the first time, felt a piercing anxiety for his son.

"He's not sleeping at a friend's place, surely," he said with a shake of his head. "That boy..."

Nanako hastened to tell Ryoma's mother Rinko what had happened. Rinko was outside collecting the post when Nanako saw her. She was sifting through the letters and suddenly her face went ghostly white.

"What's wrong?" Nanako asked with concern.

"I-It's..." Rinko held one postcard with shaking hands. The other letters, bills and correspondents from friends, had slipped from her grasp and fallen into the mud. Before Rinko could drop the postcard, Nanako held it with a steady hand.

The picture on the postcard was of New York. Nanako could see the Statue of Liberty was the focal point of the picture. Nanako turned the card over. The back was plain white and a simple message was scrawled on the lines in an unidentifiable script.

Four words: 'I have your son.' She ran to tell Nanjiroh.

* * *

Nanjiroh couldn't believe what he was seeing at first. His wife running towards him, waving a card frantically in the air and then shoving it towards his hands, making Nanjiroh grab it in surprise. And then the words, printed neatly across the back, a tale of unbelievable things. The words were too surreal, there was no way this could have possibly happened. His son was proud, calm, he knew what he was doing. If he had been in any sort of danger he would have gotten away; Nanjiroh was sure of it. His son had a head, a brain, something that would keep him away from suspicious people. His son wasn't stupid, wasn't just some ordinary twelve going on thirteen tennis player.

Various thoughts flitted through his mind. Perhaps it was some prank carried out by Ryoma and his friends from the tennis team. Perhaps they were throwing some surprise party, maybe a celebration. This couldn't be true.

When Ryoma still didn't turn up that day, Nanjiroh did something he really didn't like to do normally. He rang up the old hag.

Ryuzaki-sensei promptly answered the phone and answered in her crisp voice. "Who is this?"

Nanjiroh gripped the phone hard. "Listen to me, old hag. Is my kid there?"

"Nanjiroh? You sound... frightened..."

"Be quiet, old hag!" His hand was shaking.

Ryuzaki-sensei said, "Your son has not come to practice. He hasn't been to school at all today. The last time I saw him was yesterday afternoon." She was quiet for a moment. "He's missing, isn't he?"

"Kidnapped, more like," Nanjiroh said gruffly. He quickly explained the mysterious postcard that had appeared on his doorstep. He couldn't see Ryuzaki's face but she had to be shaken.

"Who could have done this?" she asked. "This sounds like an attack on you. What enemies do you have, Nanjiroh?"

Nanjiroh could only laugh bitterly. "Too many to count."

Ryuzaki put down the phone for the seventh time, sighing as she stretched out her arms to relieve some of the tension in her muscles. Not one of the regulars had seen Ryoma that day, not even Momo. The kid always hung around Momo, eating burgers or something of that sort. But now he had just disappeared, as if someone had plucked him from the ground and just left.

Which, in this case, could be true. There was now a high chance that someone had taken Nanjiroh's kid, perhaps putting him up for ransom or something else that kidnappers usually did.

Ryuzaki could only hope that this issue would be resolved without any major casualties.

When Nanjiroh came back into his room, Rinko was perched stiffly on the edge of their bed, her skin ashen and her eyes glassy. Upon hearing the door open, she instinctively turned to face her husband. "Any news?" Her voice was soft, her question short, as if any louder and longer and she'd break.

He sighed, shook his head, and went to sit beside his wife. "He'll be fine, woman." Gently he patted her clasped hands, keeping his voice steady to not betray his own rising strand of panic. "He'll be fine. I'll keep you informed, yeah?"

She nodded, not moving as Nanjiroh rose, only to sit back down again. He couldn't possibly leave her alone in this state. Nanako would be clever enough to direct any phone calls or messages to him.

He took hold of Rinko's hands, and began to run through his mind the long list of people he had offended back in the reckless days of his youth.

* * *

"...I want Ponta." Despite his situation - bound to a bench fastened to the ground, and he could clearly see about a meter all around before everything got eaten up by pitch darkness - Ryoma still refused to yield. "Give me Ponta, or my old man won't give you a cent."

Somewhere, a man chuckled. Somewhere, something lashed out and landed forcefully on Ryoma's right leg, eliciting a rather loud "Ow! What was that for-" from the boy.

"Who said I was after money?" Another hit. "You've only got your old man to blame, brat." There was sloshing as something fell into his lap, an unopened bottle. "Water. Take it or leave it."

The floor tiles groaned. A shadow appeared, blocking out the scarce light shining in through the barred and tightly shut windows. A door opened to an equally dark hallway, and slammed closed, leaving Ryoma utterly alone.

Not that he would ever admit he was afraid. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he picked up the bottle with his teeth, pinned it to his chest with both of his knees, and attempted to unscrew the cap. It took a while for it to finally come off. Still gripping the bottleneck between his teeth, he tilted his head backwards, gulping down the water and trying not to choke.

When he'd downed the entire bottle's contents and was still wishing he'd gotten some Ponta instead, his eyes fell on a familiar object not too far away. His tennis racket. As much as it'd seem like a useless piece of junk in this particular scenario, Ryoma wanted it, even if it was for the sake of granting himself a false sense of security. Ryoma stretched his leg out as far as it would go.

No good. He couldn't reach it.

Maybe he should rest a little while before trying again. Exhausted from the day's training, the aftermath of an adrenaline rush, and the whole getting-whisked-away-in-a-limo-and-being-kidnapped fiasco, Ryoma fell into a restless sleep still strapped to the bench.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It had been two days now since Ryoma had gone missing. Ryuzaki-sensei seemed to know more than she let on. For some reason, she looked older than usual; while she was in front of the team she tried to deliver her crispness of old, but everyone could tell it was mere facade.

Oishi was the first to speak up. "Ryuzaki-sensei, where's Echizen?" he demanded. "Something's wrong, isn't it?"

"Is it true that Echizen has Swine Flu?" Momo asked. A rumour was going around the school that Echizen Ryoma had Swine Flu and was being quarantined. Nobody wanted to risk going to his house to find out if that was true or not.

"Of course that's not true," Ryuzaki-sensei snapped. "If that was the case, the school would be told. Now get back to your practice." She looked to Tezuka for support. Tezuka was frowning. He didn't want to let it on, but he was worried. At that moment, he made a decision.

"Momoshiro, where does Echizen live?"

"Buchou, I knew you'd ask that."

"Saa, why don't we all go together to Echizen's house?"

"Fssssshhh."

And that was how all the regulars ended up outside Ryoma's house that afternoon. Nanjiroh was pacing around the belltower in an aggravated manner. He was muttering to himself and angrily kicking loose stones around. His feet were purple with all the bruises.

Momo recognised him immediately. "You're that weird monk!"

"Weird m--" Nanjiroh began, feeling out of sorts and wondering who on earth this accursed weird monk was. "Hey, how about 'Echizen-sama', boy?" He quickly spotted the rest of the regulars, and knew that the news must have travelled. Waving them over with a hand, he unlatched the bolt on the front gate and beckoned them in.

Behind Nanjiroh's back, the regulars shot each other meaningful glances. Those who knew Nanjiroh (or had heard about him from Echizen's mouth, at the very least) knew that Ryoma's father didn't get edgy and anxious because his favourite new model didn't make the front cover. Momo made a mental note to get straight to the point, once tea - and cookies, and maybe some fresh crackers - was served.

Once inside, Nanjiroh pushed stacks of naughty magazines aside to make space for the regulars.

"Hey, weird monk," Momo piped up after realizing tea wasn't going to be served. What strange circumstances. Nanako was nowhere to be seen, either. "Where's Echizen? He hasn't shown up at practice for days!"

"Fsshhhhh. Don't exaggerate, stupid peach." Kaidoh eyed Momo as Inui stepped in, flipping open his infamous notebook.

"My data concludes that there is a 2% chance Echizen is simply being a brat, 21% chance of absence due to sickness, 10% due to an injury, and..." He trailed off, adjusting his glasses. Observant eyes quickly took in the unusually untidy state of the house and the dishevelled Nanjiroh. Of course, those could have been like this since forever, but somehow he doubted it. "And 65% due to possible foul play." He finished.

Nanjiroh had settled on the floor mat, cross-legged, cheek propped on arm supported by knee. He merely nodded, teeth biting down furiously and repeatedly on the piece of straw in his mouth. From under the coffee table he managed to salvage a tattered paper pad, open to the latest scribbles.

A long list of names.

"Hey! I see my name!" Momo exclaimed excitably. Everyone glared at him.

Inui said, "It seems as if that list has all the names of those most likely to have kidnapped Echizen."

To the other regulars, that was a pure WTF moment.

"You can't mean..." Oishi said slowly. Kaidoh hissed. Fuji opened his eyes.

"One of us kidnapped Echizen?!" Kawamura finished.

Nanjiroh, who was sitting on the seat scratching his rear end, looked up and shrugged. "Could be." Then he showed the regulars the postcard. "Whose handwriting is this?"

The boys slowly passed the postcard around the table, each taking it in turns to look at it. "Nobody in the school has this handwriting," Inui said confidently.

Nanjiroh didn't look like he completely believed the boy, but he couldn't put it past the data man to have memorised the handwriting of everyone in the school. Still, Nanjiroh didn't particularly feel like trusting anyone at the moment.

But...

He needed help. His son had been gone for two days and there were still no leads. He didn't want to contact the police in case until he knew for certain who was behind Ryoma's disappearance. If he acted too prematurely, Ryoma might be gone forever. It was a possibility that Nanjiroh had never - and would never want to - consider.

"You're worried about the boy too, aren't you?" he said to the regulars. "Then help me find the owner of this handwriting."

"We will," Tezuka promised.

Nanjiroh sighed in relief.

Inui immediately took control of the investigations. Starting with the long list Nanjiroh had written, he proceeded to quiz the writer in question all about the identities of the people on the list. After some hours, refreshments, dinner and an episode of America's Next Top Model later, Inui had narrowed down the list to about nine people. These were the top priority or most suspicious individuals. Each regular (and Nanjiroh) was going to investigate one person each. They'd branch out their investigations later.

All the boys felt like they were in some murder mystery novel and despite the seriousness of the situation, they really could not help but be excited. For them, the whole dilemma did not seem completely real to them.

They would certainly take it more seriously had they seen the villain himself and heard what he was planning.

_Next step: take out Echizen Ryoma's friends and ensure that Nanjiroh will not be getting any help._


	4. Chapter 4

(Kura: -cries- I meant to get this up earlier, don't kill me okay? D: )

Chapter 4

It was rather late at night, and it was a full moon. The moon was brightly visible through the glass pane of the windows despite the curtains covering them. The sky was also rather clear, with no clouds in sight. The bedroom was dark, with only the pathways of the light piercing their way through the glass, and the steady pacing of breaths could be heard lightly. The king-size bed, sitting next to a wall near one of the illuminated windows, was full. On the left was a woman with short hair sleeping peacefully, and on the right, was her husband lying on bed, not asleep, but rather, awake with both his eyes open. His mouth still had a rather soggy cigarette in it, but the man didn't seem to mind. His mind was on other things, after all.

Nanjiroh stared at his wife for a moment, turning his head to his right. He glimpsed and studied her for a moment before shifting his position back to his original one, his eyes facing the ceiling, and both of his hands behind his head. He closed his eyes for a moment and reflected upon what had happened in the past few days. His son not returning home, his discovery that his son had been kidnapped, and Ryoma's friends showing up to help him find the boy. He sighed quite heavily before opening his eyes again. His brain was ready to burn out just thinking about all that had happened. And now to think of what to do next tired him out even more.

He was ready to tuck himself into his covers and fall asleep, hoping that a good night's rest would help clear his mind out, when suddenly, he heard the phone ring. It rang once, and immediately he picked up. It was an instant reflex of his, to react to whatever sound he had heard in the silence. He turned his attention over to his wife for a brief moment before looking at the wireless phone, and he answered it.

"Hello?" he said with a rather hush and husky voice, hoping not to wake the person sleeping next to him. He felt her shift her position and murmur to herself, talking to herself in her sleep.

"Hello to you as well," replied the voice on the other side of the line. "I am quite pleased you were the one who picked up, Nanjiroh-san."

"It's you, isn't it?" angrily yet quietly barked Nanjiroh through the receiver, "Where the hell is the brat?"

"Oh, you mean this kid that's with me?" teasingly questioned the man with a slight chuckle, "He's just fine, oh, just fine." Then a laugh could be heard, and Nanjiroh simply gritted his teeth. Whoever kidnapped Ryoma was going to get it, he thought.

"What do you want?" He hissed down the phone, trying his damnedest to come off as menacing and not at all intimidated.

"What do I want?" The stranger echoed Nanjiroh's question with a lilt, then paused, as if to ponder. "Nothing much... apart from your utter downfall."

The line intoned silence.

----

A buzz. White noise, static, a final click. Inui readjusted his glasses and gave the device another tap. There was a 78% probability of it actually properly working now. He signaled a thumbs-up to Eiji, who had been waiting outside in the garden eagerly with a cell phone cradled in his hand.

The ring tone shot across the room where the regulars struggled to keep quiet. Inui unhooked the receiver for Nanjiroh, and looped the wire of a headset around his neck.

"NYAAAA! CAN YOU HEAR ME, OCHIBI-PAPA?!" Eiji practically yelled.

Inui kept his expression deadpan. "More than 60% of your voice has already been filtered through the open windows."

"...Oh. Sorry." He said sadly over the phone. "But it's okay, right, Oishi? As long as Ochibi gets found and then I can glomp him again and ruffle his --"

Inui raised another thumb. "The tapping device is ready. Press 1 here," on the attached machine, "to record the call. Press 2 for message replay."

Nanjiroh, with dark circles under his half-shut eyes and a bed head offered cookies as his thanks. If only he'd thought to seek Inui's help yesterday. He could have traced that stupid phone call, and he'd have his son back by now.

"Hey, weird monk, don't you have something other than cookies for breakfast?" Momo grumbled at the meager meal and heard his stomach.

Oishi shot Momo concerned looks. "That's not a very nice thing to say, Momo. How does pizza takeout sound? I'll place the order. Does anyone want anything else?" The other regulars politely turned down his offer --cookies were enough, and they were hardly in the mood to eat anyway.

Oishi, cautious as ever, was careful to use his cell phone, lest the kidnapper decided to call back.

----

The traffic was heavy that day. A pizza boy weaved in and out of lanes and dodged larger vehicles on his motorcycle, boxes of pizza strapped and nestled safely behind him.

At the next junction he pulled over by the curb and got down, checking the unfamiliar address. Outside a house, a young teenager stood waiting. "You must be the pizza boy," he smiled as he approached, bills wadded up in his fisted hand.

The delivery boy nodded. "Here they are, sir." He handed them over, accepting the bills at the same time. Mission accomplished. He turned back to his bike.

And subsequently failed to notice the teenager pouring packets of powder onto the fresh pizza slices.

Back at the Echizen residence, Oishi rose to answer the door. "You must be the pizza boy," he remarked with a smile. "Thank you for the hard work. Here is the money."

The teenager took the money and left.

"Yeeeeaaaahhhhh, pizza!" Momo pumped a fist into the air, impatiently opening the boxes and inhaling the aroma. He didn't even bother to use utensils as slice after slice was shoved into his mouth. "Yummy!"

"Be careful of poison." Fuji commented jokingly.

Ring, ring.

The chatter hushed. Inui shared the earpiece with Tezuka with Nanjiroh on the landline. "Hello?"

"Hello, Nanjiroh."

"Don't beat about the bush now. How much do you want?"

"You're giving me money? My, I'm flattered." A laugh, crisp and hollow and sharp. "By the way, how are you liking your gourmet surprise?"

Inui and Tezuka exchanged glances. Nanjiroh tightened his grip on the receiver. "Oi, stop talking in puzzles, will you?" The regulars looked on, similar worried expressions on their faces. What did he mean?

It was Oishi who first noticed the absence of Momo's untimely outbursts. Said boy was slumped over the coffee table, one hand clutching at his abdomen.

---

Ryoma was still none-the-wiser as to who his mysterious kidnapper was. Time seemed to stretch forever in his dark, little room. At regular intervals (Ryoma estimated five or so hours but he couldn't be sure) someone came into the room with some bread and water. Ryoma tried to let it last, but he'd usually just swallow it all up straight away.

What he wouldn't give for Nanako's cooking right now...

Ryoma was shocked to discover how quickly he was beginning to wither away. His skin was getting paler and he suspected his face was becoming gaunter. He experienced sharp pains in his stomach from lack of food. None of the effects were permanent yet, but Ryoma was getting the feeling that by the time he got back on the tennis court, he'd be more than just a little rusty.

After what seemed like years and years of inactivity but was actually merely days, someone came to visit Ryoma in his prison.

It was him. His kidnapper.

Ryoma felt his breathing hitch and his stomach tighten up. He sat up and glared at the man who was looking down at him. No way was he going to show fear. This man was just like one of those hotshots who tried to intimidate him on the tennis court.

Of course, the situation was entirely different, but...

"Well, well, if it isn't Ryoma-kun." The man was smiling. Ryoma instinctively paled at the sight. "I wonder what you're doing here. You must be thinking about that too."

"Che." If Ryoma had his cap, he would have pulled it over his eyes, just so he could avoid his kidnapper's gaze. "It's your fault."

"No," the man replied, suddenly opening his eyes. He was frightening. Ryoma could see the whites of his eyes. "No," the man said again. "It's your father's fault."

With great difficulty, Ryoma stopped himself from stuttering his next question. "How?"

"Nanjiroh," the man explained, "did me a great injustice before you were born. I was about to get my revenge on him before he quit playing tennis and went to live in America. I lost all track of him.

"And then... He came back to Japan. With a child. You.

"I despise you. Nanjiroh quit tennis to raise you. You can't imagine what he could have accomplished or what I could have done to him had it not been for you. Because of you, I lost sight of Nanjiroh for twelve years."

"That's not such a big deal," Ryoma said before he could stop himself.

"SILENCE!" the man yelled. Ryoma realised then that he was crazy. "So now..." the man continued with a chuckle that chilled Ryoma to the very core, "I am going to get back at Nanjiroh... through you. I'm going to make sure you never play tennis again."

The intense fear that Ryoma had felt on that day he had been kidnapped suddenly came back to him. He couldn't speak at all, just buried his head in his arms. He suddenly began to cry.


End file.
